Reversed roles
by Arianka
Summary: It's not easy to come back to life, especially when you are tiny. And left your half-brother's care... Fluffy piece.
1. Chapter 1

Exams are always a good excuse for writing crazy fics, so here is one tiny piece with Feanor being reborn as a kid. Just a fluffy one-shot.

Little piece for Kalendeer, as it is probably the only Feanor I can stand writing, where he would look nice. Well. Feanorish nice.

* * *

 **Reversed roles**

The first time the envoy of the Valar came, Nolofinwe was mortified. Like it usually was with them, there wasn't really a place for arguing. Namo, Nolofinwe had to admit, seemed kind of desperate. He said he could find no one else for the task and he would not charge any of Fëanaro's sons with it. All in all, it was a good thing to make a Vala owe you, so Nolofinwe finally agreed.

Which, in result, left him in charge of his brother. His _elder_ brother, currently a pouting child with a charming smile, when he bothered to reward him with one. And, unfortunately, his far less charming personality and memories. Nolofinwe immediately understood why he was chosen. Nerdanel already had her seven sons in various stages of emotional maturity to deal with and it would be unfair to charge her and adolescent Maitimo with the care of Fëanaro.

When Namo's servant brought his brother, Fëanaro was visibly displeased. He clearly found it humiliating that the Maia was carrying him, but as they were both told, the distance was too great for his short legs to manage. The Maia warned the second son of Finwe that he may face emotional instability and mood changes, then left. As if Nolofinwe had not known his brother.

' _You will not treat me like a child'_ was the first thing he heard when they were left alone. He found it hard to follow when he was told so by someone who barely reached his thigh. His brother was no longer so imposing, no matter how hard he tried. At first Nolofinwe found it somewhat amusing.

They walked together across the inner yard to the main building. It was a smaller house Nolofinwe chose from time to time, when he wished to spend some time away from his brother's court. Right now he was almost sure it was one reason more why he was chosen to be put in charge of Fëanaro. They were in quite a desolate place. Findekano and Findarato were going to drop by in the next few days, but Nolofinwe wouldn't be really surprised if they were told by someone not to come.

"Where is your forge?" asked Fëanaro, looking around with interest.

"Have you ever known me for having one?" replied Nolofinwe with a question. "Besides, I will not let you go to any forge right now."

"You will not tell me what to do!"

"What would you do in a forge anyway?" Nolofinwe deliberately knelt to be at the child's level. "Sit on a stool and swing your legs? You are too small to reach most of the things and I doubt you have enough strength to lift, let's say, a hammer."

"I suppose I don't," agreed Fëanaro grumpily. "So, I am to stay with you. I hope you have some books at least."

"I think you'll find something interesting. I can show you the library, if you wish." Perhaps it was for the best to let Fëanaro spend some time alone before trying to talk with him. It must have been so confusing to come back to life as a child. He himself had not had such experience, being brought to Anaire as a grown elf.

"That would be nice," replied the boy politely. _Definitely confusing_ , decided Nolofinwe.

"Then come with me, Pityanaro," he said and chuckled as his tiny _elder_ brother glared daggers at him.

xxx

Fëanaro seemed satisfied when he was given several lore books to study and a sketchbook. He seemed to be buzzing with various ideas and even though he was forbidden to use any kind of workshop, it didn't mean he couldn't make some plans. Nolofinwe was pleased to find his brother willing to explain what he was sketching, even if he was terribly frustrated with the clumsiness of his little fingers. Still, it was refreshing and oddly pleasant to see him working, even if he looked ridiculous sitting by Nolofinwe's desk, way too big for him.

The second son of Finwe decided to return to his studio and leave Fëanaro to his projects, as he was obviously thrilled to be able to create again, even with his limited possibilities. He left the doors open, so he could hear his brother, should he need anything, but he doubted Fëanaro would require anything anytime soon.

xxx

There was a loud _thunk!_ , a startled cry and then something hit the floor. Judging by the muffled whimper, a very stubborn, childish and Feanorish _something_. Nolofinwe shook his head and went out to check on the damage.

There was a broken shelf and a big, heavy book laying on the floor. Several smaller books were tossed around and in the middle of this chaos sat Fëanaro, doing his best trying not to look distraught. The boy sniffled once, twice, his eyes welled with tears. He wiped them away angrily and stood up, when a muffled sob escaped his lips.

"What's wrong, Fëanaro? Are you alright?"

"N-nothing," sniffled his _elder_ brother and Nolofinwe immediately realised his mistake. Never, ever act around a hurt child as if something serious happened, or else they would flood in tears before you know it. It seemed that he had just triggered the childish part of his brother.

"You know, it is quite alright to cry if it hurts," remarked Nolofinwe more casually, following his brother as he stumbled on the corridor, books and all the mess forgotten.

"It d-doesn't!"

"You have splinters in your calf. _AND_ you are dripping blood on the floor." Nolofinwe easily picked his brother up and placed on his hip. Despite his claims, Fëanaro subconsciously sought comfort and didn't really oppose when Nolofinwe hugged him more closely and carried him to the bathroom.

"Now I am dripping blood on you," muttered the boy matter-of-factly.

"So you are."

Nolofinwe seated him on a chair and went to seek for some clean towel and a piece of bandage. When he turned again, Fëanaro was already fumbling around his leg, trying to remove long splinters.

"Let me." Nolofinwe knelt beside him, seeing how his brother's hands were shaking.

"I know how to do that. I have seven sons!"

"You're the size of your youngest boys right now, the last I saw them at least."

"Can I go and see them? And play with them?" This time he didn't manage to fully hide his interest; the child part of his _older_ brother was showing again, whether he liked it or not.

Nolofinwe smirked. Fëanaro spent half of the time performing his usual tasks (or at least attempting, as much as his small body would let him), but then came the moments when his childish part took over and he did things adequate for the age he looked like. Then, of course, he would deny anything had actually happened.

"Not now, certainly. Leave those scissors, they are too big for you. Don't act like a child and let me do that."

xxx

"I wish to see Nerdanel," stated Fëanaro after they finished their late dinner.

Nolofinwe arched his eyebrow, trying hard to ignore the tiny legs swinging under the table and occasionally kicking the chair.

"You'll see her once you're a bit bigger," he replied calmly. "I know you miss her, but she is far too busy with your sons to charge her with you as well."

That was a really charming pout that appeared on his brother's face. Fëanaro stared grimly at his plate for a long time, sulking.

"So they screwed again," he muttered angrily. "The Valar. They should have let me out first, so I we could deal with our children together, like we once had."

"Have you known the Valar to be always right?" asked Nolofinwe and he was rewarded with a surprised smile. "And... You know, I am not going to strangle or poison you. I am trying to get things... better," he said finally.

"I know. So should I," sighed Fëanaro and a tiny hand grasped Nolofinwe's fingers. "I am glad to be out of there. I just want to return to my family."

"Soon," promised Nolofinwe. "And besides, it wouldn't look well if I sent you back to Mandos, would it?" he said teasingly. "Hey, Fëanaro! I'm just jesting!" he called, alarmed, as the boy ran to the window and stared in amazement.

Fëanaro ignored him, still staring. Nolofinwe joined him and saw the full moon slowly raising on the sky. The child seemed to be utterly mesmerized.

"This night lamp is magnificent," said Fëanaro in wonder. "It's absolutely beautiful."

"It is," agreed Nolofinwe. He picked his brother up so he could see more clearly. "And it doesn't obscure the sight of the stars."

Fëanaro was enchanted by the silver light of the moon. Nolofinwe remembered that the Halls of Mandos were a shadowy place with nothing real around the bodiless fëas. His brother was taking being alive again surprisingly well, but no wonder he was so caught up with the sight of something he had never seen directly before.

The evening was warm and pleasant, so Nolofinwe decided to take his brother out. He still kept him in his arms, but Fëanaro didn't really mind that, too busy watching the moon and all the stars he didn't know, including his Silmaril. Seeing that, Nolofinwe sang a praise for Elbereth. He walked through the garden, enjoying the silence and the company of his not-so-awful elder brother. Before he knew, Fëanaro's childish part took over him and the boy fell asleep in his arms.

As he did so, Nolofinwe nestled him more comfortably and carried him back to the house. It was only after he placed Fëanaro in a bed when he was hit by the sudden realisation. As interesting as this experience was, no one told him how long it was going to look like that before his brother would be an adult again.

* * *

Pityanaro was Kalendeer's idea. Thanks!


	2. Chapter 2

I posted the previous scene almost exactly a year ago and I didn't think I'd go back to it... but muses work mysterious ways and I found myself with little Pityanaro again. Perhaps there will be more images like this.  
Enjoy :)

* * *

An elf could not get a heart attack. Their bodies were better than that, this was the domain of the Men. Besides, a body as fresh as his... Still, Nolofinwe was sure he would be the first to get one.

"Fëanáro!" he called again and checked again in his study. His little older brother took a liking to his desk and could most often be found there reading and sketching. This noon, however, the study was empty. As was the kitchen, both rooms Fëanáro had claimed as his own and the library.

Nolofinwe had to face the facts. Fëanáro was nowhere in the house.

"Ah, my lord!" Nórimo, the Noldo running this household whenever Nolofinwe was not living there, came out of the spacious living room. "Is something amiss?"

"Have you seen my brother?" Whatever Namo wished, Nolofinwe couldn't keep Fëanáro's presence in secret. Not that the boy would let him keep him hidden. Actually it was a miracle he had managed so far to keep Fëanáro within the house. At least till now.

"Not today, no." Nórimo shook his head. "But I was busy. The rooms are ready."

"Rooms...?" Echoed Nolofinwe, then groaned inwardly. Of course, unlike him, Nórimo remembered about Findekano and Findarato coming. Having been too preoccupied with Fëanáro, he completely forgot about this tiny detail. "Good. Please let me know if you see them coming."

"That won't be necessary, Atto," came a merry reply. "The morning was so beautiful that we decided to leave early." Findekano went in, Findarato close behind him. Both were grinning.

"Did you have a nice chase?" Nolofinwe smiled, seeing that both his son's and his nephew's hair were tussled.

"We did." Findarato nodded happily, but his eyes regarded his uncle with concern. "What's the matter?"

"I have a boy to look after and he's nowhere to be found." Nolofinwe found himself unwilling to share the identity of his ward. "I'd rather know where he is."  
"Not in the house, then?" Findekano grinned. "Have you ever known any of us to stay inside with such a nice weather? Unless you made us to?"

"I was just going to check the gardens. Are you coming too?"

xxx

There was no sign of any child near the stables, nor by the great fountain Turukano designed once he had been released. They moved on towards the garden shed and they found it open, even though no one was working today. They glanced inside and found it empty, but also missing a few tools. Nolofinwe was fairly sure no one planned any works in the garden for this afternoon, so that left only one suspect.

"Looks like someone got creative," commented Findekano, having noticed the absence of the ladder too.

"You have no idea," grunted Nolofinwe. He bit his tongue before muttering out loud ' _damn you, brother'._ That did not end well the last time.

They walked together along the stream coming from the fountain and running down several terraces to the pond. Nolofinwe was about to suggest that it would be tiring for the boy to carry the ladder so far, but granted, his brother was stubborn. If he had set his mind on doing something, he had probably dragged the ladder as far as necessary.

They didn't even have to split. They saw the ladder was standing leaned against one of the biggest trees by the pond. Its thick branches leaned towards the surface of the water, but the lowest were about seven feet above the ground. And there was their lost child, sitting on a branch and fumbling with a thick rope. Nolofinwe's heart skipped a beat as he realised just how high Fëanáro was. He was NOT sending his brother back to Mandos. At least not this soon.

Beside him, Findarato gasped. "Curvo?!"

Startled, the boy jerked and swayed. A knife fell from his tiny hand, but he managed to grasp the branch and hold himself up on his seat. Hiding his fright quickly, he glared at the three elves below.

"I prefer Fëanáro and you know it, Findarato."

Findekano choked on whatever he intended to say, settling for faintly uttered "U-uncle?" He then turned towards his father and shook his head in disbelief. "THIS is the child you were looking for?"  
"One and the same," nodded Nolofinwe. "What on Arda are you doing there, Fëanáro?"

"Can't you see?" The pout made his tiny elder brother look adorable and Nolofinwe found it hard to resist the urge to grin. The child was still sitting way too high for him to be comfortable and he didn't want to risk upsetting him while he was on the tree.

"I can see a good swing." How Findarato managed to keep his expression perfectly blank was a mystery, because Findekano beside him was trying hard not to burst into laughter. "I don't understand, uncle, how come you didn't have one in your gardens," he turned towards Nolofinwe, his tone with a hint of polite rebuke.

"Shame indeed." Nolofinwe shook his head. "Are you done there? If so, please come down," he said to Fëanáro. He could just grasp him, but doing so in the presence of Fëanáro's grown nephews would end in a disaster. They had managed to work out a fragile truce in the last few days, with Fëanáro not being openly spiteful and Nolofinwe doing his best trying not to treat his elder brother like a child he was. They were even quite successful in remaining civil towards each other. Friendly, almost.  
The boy scowled and shifted, but then went utterly still. "I... I can't," he muttered. His eyes, suddenly wide and frightened, were locked on the ground below. Only now did Nolofinwe notice how white his knuckles were from holding the branch.

"Is there-"

"No!" Fëanáro looked alarmed, his voice high as panic kicked in. "N-no." He hiccupped. "G-go aw-way." Ashamed, he shut his eyes and clang to the branch, trying to ignore tears running down his cheeks.

Nolofinwe wasn't aware his brother was afraid of heights. Perhaps it was just a part of confusion caused by being alive, for he could remember Fëanáro climbing trees several times after his boys, either to play with them or to help them down. It seemed though that he needed a bit of assistance this time.

Findarato must have come to the same conclusion. "Hey, that's alright," he smiled and stepped forward. "I can take you from here. See?" He reached with his arms and grabbed the boy under the arms. "You can let go of the branch. I will take you down," he coaxed gently, but Fëanáro held to the tree and seemed not to hear him.

"Naro. Let go." Nolofinwe moved closer too and pried the clutched fingers open. As soon as the grasp of the tiny hands loosened, Findarato lowered the boy and placed him awkwardly in his uncle's arms. Fëanáro clang to his brother, his thin frame shaking from withheld sobs.

Nolofinwe walked several steps away, holding the child close but not talking. In the past few days he had seen his brother cry for various reasons, sometimes in the least expected moments. Each time Fëanáro then pretended it didn't happen, but he also sought physical comfort and seemed to have come to terms with the fact that his brother was the closest available.

"This is even weirder than carrying little Maitimo," Nolofinwe heard Findekano mutter to his cousin, "but still uncle Fëanáro seems to be taking it much better than him."

Findarato nodded and his eyes dimmed. "It is hard enough to return as an adult. To leave a child with such memories..."

Nolofinwe couldn't disagree. Most of them died in a violent way and it was hard at first to grasp the concept of being alive again, yet still remembering one's own death. Fortunately, most of them had someone close to guide them and help them through the first stage. To think though that Maitimo had to deal with his memories as a child... That was one of the Valar's doings he could not understand.

Fëanáro shifted in his arms and looked up. "What about Maitimo?" He demanded, his eyes shining with tears, but also anger. "What did they do to him?" He strode towards his nephews as soon as Nolofinwe placed him on the ground.

"Maitimo was doing well last time I saw him, about a month ago," promised Findekano. "It's just... when I heard he had been released and went to see him, I didn't expect a child. He was small and confused as some memories of... the last time kept returning with no apparent scheme. It took aunt Nerdanel some time to convince him to go out. But he is fine now, I promise."

"Thank you." Fëanáro nodded slightly, still looking grim. Nolofinwe expected him to demand going to see his family after that. So far he had managed to convince his brother that he didn't want his wife to wipe his nose, but he doubted this argument would remain valid for long.

Findekano broke the foul mood and grinned. "Shall we test that swing?"

"Why not." It was weird to see Fëanáro grin back with such childish joy. He jumped on the seat, the hilarity of the situation clearly forgotten.

"Have fun, you three." Nolofinwe stepped away, seeing that Findekano and Findarato were willing to keep Fëanáro occupied for some time. He wondered briefly when his brother was going to realise what he was doing, but for now he seemed just fine. The boy swung a few times and let Findekano try. Chuckling, Nolofinwe walked away.

He didn't even reach the stream when he heard a startled cry and then a loud splash. He turned back just to see Findekano sitting up in the pond, the swing hanging miserably on just one rope. It seemed that Fëanáro lacked the strength to fasten the rope enough to bear the weight of a grown elf... but judging from Findarato's melodious laughter, his son was just fine. Nolofinwe walked on. After all, he deserved a bit of a break.

He didn't even turn around when a child's giggle and a high-pitched cry suggested that Findekano dragged his cousin right into the water. They _could_ handle each other for some time.

* * *

What do you think?

Thank you for reading :)


	3. Chapter 3

"Master Mahtan!"

The smith put down the box he was carrying across the yard and turned around to see a stranger standing by the main gate. She was neither his customer nor his apprentice, but she clearly recognised him.

"How can I help you?" he asked politely, heading towards her.

"It's more about me helping you," she replied, smiling a bit nervously. "I found him lost on the streets and he said he wanted to get to you." With that, she came closer and Mahtan realised she wasn't alone. A child appeared from behind the fence and Mahtan was about to tell his guest that they had no children within this household and she must have got something wrong, except...

The smile the boy gave him was genuine if a bit shy. "It's good to see you, Mahtan."

...Considering what Nerdanel had been going through for the past few decades, it wasn't even impossible. Mahtan took a deep breath and looked back at the elleth. Apparently she had no idea who she had brought to him. "Thank you. I'll take him."

Still perplexed, Mahtan motioned Fëanáro to get inside the house and followed him swiftly before the elleth decided to ask questions. The boy seemed tired and confused, and had that look Mahtan had seen in his grandsons' eyes; the look of one trying and failing to comprehend the world around him. Seeing that Fëanáro had made a long journey at his tiny legs, Mahtan headed to the kitchen and was pleased to find it unoccupied. He pointed at the bench by the long table and sat on the opposite side.

"What are you doing here?" The question came out harsher than he intended. "Have you come to Nerdanel? She has long since moved out."

"I know." There was longing in Fëanáro's eyes, which disappeared as his expression hardened. "She doesn't even know I'm back, does she," he said gruffly.

"I don't think so, no." Seeing that the child was eyeing at the pitcher with water, Mahtan poured a glass and handed it to him.

Fëanáro nodded in thanks and drank greedily. For a moment he stared at the empty glass, as if bracing himself, before he finally spoke."Actually... I wanted to work with you."

"No such thing is going to happen," Mahtan replied at once, unable to hide his annoyance completely. That was bold of Fëanáro, coming to him like that after all that had happened between him and his daughter. "I can't risk letting in someone so small."

"I don't need tutoring, Mahtan," Fëanáro puffed in offence. "I just need... a workshop."

"No." Mahtan wondered how many times he was going to repeat that before his answer would get to his tiny son-in-law. "Where are you staying?"

"With my brother." The lack of scorn and ever present "half" sounded promising, but it changed nothing.

"Very well. Suit yourself if you want to eat something," Mahtan gestured around. "And wait here for me. I'll finish one thing and take you back."

xxx

Once he was alone again, the situation hit him fully. Apparently the Valar had learned nothing from their experiment with Nerdanel's children... or there was a deeper reason behind this, one they had not figured out yet. Lifting the box he had left at the yard, Mahtan shook his head. He knew Fëanáro could be a handful and he almost pitied Arafinwe. Either way, he would have to have a word with him. The last thing Nerdanel needed now was dealing with this tiny Fëanáro. Perhaps he should be glad Fëanáro had come to him instead of searching for her...

Something fell in the building behind him. Cursing silently, Mahtan rushed to the forge. That noise meant nothing good, especially as no one was supposed to be there. A certain _no one_ in particular.

Fëanáro stood by the long working table, trying to free his hand from under a large piece of raw metal. He couldn't lift it, so he frantically pulled and pulled his trapped hand.

"Don't haul!" Mahtan called to him and hastened his steps.

Fëanáro jerked and yelped in pain. He turned around, embarrassment written on his chubby features. "M-make't s-stop," he uttered pleadingly.

Mahtan shook his head in exasperation, but picked the metal piece with ease. The child immediately hugged his hand and stared at his feet, stubbornly trying not to burst into tears.

"Let me see." Mahtan said more gently, but a shake of head was the only response he received. He sighed and crouched. "Fëanáro. I need to see this." He grasped the injured hand, then made Fëanáro flex his fingers to check if there was nothing broken. The movements broke the boy's resolve and he started sobbing. Still, Mahtan managed to see what he needed.

"Hush, it seems to be alright."

"It hurts." Fëanáro tried to curl his fingers into a fist, but stopped and a new wave of tears ran down his cheeks. He refused to look up.

"I bet it does." Just like any other smith, Mahtan knew as much from his own experience, but he was far from coddling Fëanáro after he had disobeyed him so. "There should be water in the corner. Put your hand there and let it cool," he pointed the direction, but the child was already too drowned in his misery to pay attention. Sighing inwardly, he led his tiny son-in-law to the basin and placed his hand in a bowl full of fresh water. "Stay here."

Mahtan went to the drawer where he kept some emergency supplies and took a salve that would numb the bruised hand. He was pleased to see that for once Fëanáro stayed where he was told to, and that he managed to calm down. After applying the salve on the swelling hand Mahtan wrapped a piece of cloth around it to prevent the boy from smearing it all over his clothes.

"There."

"It still hurts," said Fëanáro sulkily, his restless fingers already fumbling with the cloth.

"And it serves you well. What made you think you could just come here?" It was hard not to treat Fëanáro like a child despite his claims, especially when he acted like one.

"My brother has no forge... And I know what to do around here."

Mahtan quirked an eyebrow. "Have you ever let any of your boys or apprentices at any age work in your forge without proper protection and supervision?" he said pointedly. "I should hope not. What made you think you're any different?"

"I took the gloves. They were too big." A mumbling Fëanáro was certainly a rare sight, Mahtan had to admit. "And I just wanted to see what you were doing. It looked promising."

"Maybe that should have made you think twice," said Mahtan sternly despite the growing amusement. The situation was hilarious, but he wasn't about let it show. "You're too small for now to work here, as you can see it's dangerous. You may come in a few years." He bit back a smile when the child brightened with joy at that offer. Perhaps it would do him good... "But now it's time for you to return to your brother. Something tells me you didn't tell him you were going to see me."

xxx

The city was way too big for such small legs, Mahtan realised too late. It had been long since he had last dealt with a child and as he was in no hurry, he didn't take a horse or a carriage. At first Fëanáro strolled obediently by his side, his wide eyes watching the streets and markets. Then he bombarded Mahtan with questions about his latest projects, but as they neared the city centre, the boy silenced and slowed down. He didn't complain, stubbornly trying to keep up, but Mahtan saw his suppressed yawns. He wasn't used to travelling with companions who tired so easily, but then millennia passed since he had last taken care of a child. And never an elf who was reborn in such a way.

"I'll carry you," he offered as the boy stumbled again.

Fëanáro didn't object. He nestled himself in Mahtan's strong arms and wrapped one arm around his neck, and kept his hurt hand close by his chest. Mahtan expected more defiance and he was surprised how easily this not-quite-a-child relaxed in his embrace. As he walked on with Fëanáro slowly dozing off, he wondered if that perhaps was the right approach to his son-in-law - to make him open to others.

The road went quick now that he didn't have to wait for Fëanáro to keep up and soon Mahtan found himself by the house he knew Arafinwe usually occupied when he had nothing to do at the court. As the last debate was only two weeks ago, chances were high that he would be home.

He was not mistaken. As he inquired about Arafinwe and mentioned he had an urgent matter to discuss with him, one of the servants led him into the house. He motioned Mahtan to wait and vanished for a moment, never uttering a word about the child in his arms. He was back soon and said that Arafinwe awaited him.

"I think I have something you might have lost." Mahtan spoke as he went in, the heavy boots he wore echoing each step on the marble floor. Fëanáro in his arms obviously didn't mind; he slept, oblivious to the world around him.

"That I..." Arafinwe turned around from the bookshelf where he was ordering books and dropped as he saw Fëanáro. A book slipped from his hand and landed on a soft carpet.

"I take Fëanáro's not staying with you, then," Mahtan grinned at Arafinwe's blank stare. "I admit I didn't think anyone would have left him with Nolofinwe, but apparently I was wrong."

Arafinwe blinked. "That's... Fëanáro?" He came closer, still staring at the child in disbelief. "Varda's stars, where did you find him?!"

Mahtan chuckled. "At my doorstep, quite literally. He said he was staying with his brother, so I brought him. I guess you can take it from here?" He carefully untangled Fëanáro's hand from his collar and placed the sleeping child into Arafinwe's arms. Finwe's youngest – or eldest? It was confusing – son picked Fëanáro automatically and hugged him as the boy stirred.

Outside the library, the main doors slammed. Someone came in and rushed steps could be heard on the corridor.

"Ara, where are you?"

"In here!" Called Arafinwe weakly over Fëanáro's head.

"I need your..." Nolofinwe stormed in and stopped. "Oh thank goodness, you've found him!" He looked a bit out of breath and the outer robe he kept tossed over his arm suggested that he had made his way to his brother in haste.

"All..." Arafinwe winced and reached for the tiny hand that had already managed to grasp his hair, "...yours." He handed over the sleeping surprise to his brother.

This time Fëanáro stirred at being so unceremoniously passed from one to another. He mumbled something as Nolofinwe tried to hold both him and his own robe, then suddenly yelped and hid his face in his brother's collar with a whimper.

"What now?" snapped Nolofinwe.

Fëanáro raised his head and blinked in confusion when he saw his brothers, looking uncomfortable. "Arafinwe," he said, his voice still heavy with sleep. "Nolo, why... No, no, no! Don't touch!" He cried out as Nolofinwe grasped his hand dangling awkwardly.

"Alright, alright! I won't." Nolofinwe leaned and firmly put the child on the floor. "I expect some kind of explanation."

"So do I," Arafinwe looked pointedly at him.

Mahtan chuckled at the two older brothers being scolded by the younger. "I think you not having a forge may have something to do with Fëanáro's little excursion, Nolofinwe," he offered. The look Fëanáro sent him could probably kill, had he been bigger. The boy hid his fists in his sleeves and steadily kept his brothers' stares as Mahtan recalled briefly the afternoon's events. Nolofinwe sent Fëanáro an exasperated 'I-told-you' look, but fortunately managed not to say it out loud. Instead, he turned to Arafinwe.

"I assumed you were notified that Fëanáro is staying with me," he said. "Besides, we were going to visit you today anyway..."

"Only you managed to lose _him_ on your way," hissed Arafinwe, still not quite over with the presence of the boy. "I am trying to run this place. Can you at least not make it any harder?" he snapped.

"Didn't mean to," Nolofinwe rolled his eyes. "When was the last time you took care of a child?"

Fëanáro rubbed his eyes, the confusion written all over his face again. He glanced from one brother to another, then moved a bit closer to Nolofinwe. "Can we go back home?" he asked quietly.

"Oh." Arafinwe blinked in surprise. He let out a deep breath and turned to Fëanáro, looking slightly embarrassed. "You can stay, of course. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to appear so... uninviting. It seems I don't take surprises well after all," he offered a smile, which Fëanáro returned with hesitation.

"Have a nice evening, then." Mahtan decided it was high time to leave. "Just try not to kill each other, please?" He smiled as he saw three pairs of eyes looking at him with the same indignation.

"Mahtan," Fëanáro called after him. "Can I _please_ come and see what you are doing?" He sounded desperate.

The smith glanced at the other two sons of Finwe. Perhaps they were going to figure it out how to get on a bit better than they had had in the past... But a little bit of help couldn't hurt. He smiled slightly and nodded. "On two conditions. You will not try to touch anything hot or heavy unless I let you. And – you will notify your brother you're coming to stay with me."

The pure joy in Fëanáro's bright eyes was worth it.

"I promise."

* * *

I admit this is the first time I have ever written Mahtan. It was fun.  
What do you think?


	4. Chapter 4

I know, it took ages, but finally Feanaro got to work (play) in the forge. And he got his promised shinies.

* * *

In all honesty, Mahtan wasn't really surprised when he saw Nolofinwe and Fëanaro at his doorstep. Not even ten days passed since he had learned that his son-in-law had been released from Mandos. In fact, Mahtan expected Fëanaro to come at least three days earlier, but something or someone must have kept him occupied elsewhere. He really hoped it was because Fëanaro wished to renew his contacts with Arafinwe after a bit unfortunate reunion and not because his brothers held him away. He really wouldn't mind Fëanáro's company. And the boy – boy? – regarded him as a kind of father figure. Perhaps he could use one now...

Nolofinwe left his brother and promised to come and retrieve him before the evening, looking sheepish. Mahtan remembered well the times when little Nolofinwe had followed Fëanáro around, which had often ended with him sitting somewhere around his forges, waiting for his brother, or lurking to see just what Fëanáro had been doing. More than once had Fëanáro dropped his work to get his brother back to the palace, and he had never been happy about it. Today, however, Nolofinwe didn't stay. That, realised Mahtan, would have been even more awkward than Nolofinwe escorting little Fëanáro around.

For his part, Fëanáro didn't seem to mind at all. He was so eager to join Mahtan that he ignored his brother's bit patronising tone and dismissed him as one would dismiss a servant reporting some trivial matter. Mahtan chuckled softly and headed towards his forge before the famed Spirit could turn into fire. The boy's eyes were shining and... was he really _bouncing_ along?!

"Is there anything particular you'd like to make?" Mahtan asked once he reminded Fëanáro the rules that were the condition of him being allowed into the forge at all. No heavy tools and nothing involving heat, which ruled out a lot of things, but still left Fëanáro a wide range of possibilities. Knowing his talents and creativity, Mahtan doubted the boy would be bored.

"How about some crystal lamps?" Fëanáro was already eyeing the colourful gems set neatly in a box on the long working table. Some were already faceted, some still raw. "I have an idea..."

"Alright," Mahtan nodded. "In fact, you could make one for me too, I need a yellow one to the garden."

Fëanáro smiled. "With pleasure."

Some of the apprentices in the forge looked surprised when they saw their master accompanied by a child, but Mahtan's glare stopped any comments before they had a chance to arise. He led Fëanáro to a free working table close to his own and as far away from the others as possible.

"I have some parts already made, you can pick from these anything you like," he took a box from the highest shelf and placed it before his ward. He knew Fëanáro would probably have wished to create his own from scratch, but he would have to settle for now with what he got. "I will help you later with the setting." Mahtan bit his tongue before adding 'have fun', though he doubted Fëanáro would have noticed, so preoccupied he was already with the gems. Lamps were always needed and making them was a pleasant break in between harder work. Once you knew how to make the crystals glow, of course.

For the next hour or two, it was as if Fëanáro wasn't even there. He only spoke to ask where he could find some tools, otherwise he worked silently and required no assistance. After having checked that the boy's precision was good enough, Mahtan decided it was safe to give him pliers and left him to his projects.

"Could you put these together for me?" Fëanáro jumped off his stool and came to Mahtan, but stopped when he saw that the smith was busy. "Oh, once you're done here, of course."

Mahtan smiled. Child or not, Fëanáro knew his way around the forge and was aware which tasks could not be stopped in the middle. He glanced over his shoulder at the other elves.

"Alquandur, bind those for him, would you," he said to his apprentice, who seemed unoccupied at the moment.

The youth moved to the working table, picking a place where Mahtan could see what he was doing. Fëanáro followed him, explaining in what way he wanted the pieces to be connected. He dragged a stool and stood on it, so that he could see everything Alquandur was doing.

The two worked together and for a while the forge turned quiet again, so Mahtan focused on his own work. However, it didn't last too long, and soon he heard Fëanáro's firm remark.

"It's not heated enough. You have to wait a little longer."

"And just how would you know that?"

"Because I do," replied Fëanáro, calm for now. "If you bind them now, the connection will be brittle and will most likely break soon."

Mahtan sighed inwardly, sensing an upcoming disaster. Alquandur had a lot to learn, yet he despised criticism when it came from others than his teacher. And to be reprimanded by a child...

The piece he was working on required his attention, so Mahtan left the problem for a moment and checked his work, searching for details that could require some corrections. The problem did not leave him though.

"Mahtan, it is not ready!" Fëanáro's high-pitched voice made him look up briefly. "Do NOT connect these!"

...There it was, right when he could not come over.

"Alquandur, you might want to listen to him, he's probably right."

The apprentice puffed in disbelief, clearly deciding that Mahtan was just humouring the child. He bent to resume his work, but Fëanáro grasped his arm, clearly unable to stand it any longer.

"Oh, let me do that," he snapped and reached for the clasps.

"We have a deal, Fëanáro," Mahtan reminded him sternly. He would not see the child operating any hot tools, especially when his own hands were busy and he would not be able to react in time.

The apprentice gasped and stared at his master. " Fëanáro? Who in Varda's stars would name a child like that?"

Fëanáro looked hurt and furious when he glanced up. "Miriel," he growled, his eyes treacherously shiny. "Leave my work before you ruin it. I'll wait." With that, he strode towards his corner, turning away from everybody.

"That's..."

"Curufinwe Fëanáro Finwion, yes." Mahtan couldn't look, but the astonished silence that followed his statement was meaningful enough.

Only after he had finished his work, Mahtan glanced at his son-in-law. Fëanáro had not moved, bent over the table and focused on whatever he was doing. Seeing that the boy had had enough time to cool down on his own, he sent the apprentices for the midday meal and came over. Fëanáro seemed not to notice him, furiously preparing more glowing crystals than he really needed.

"These are marvellous," Mahtan said sincerely once he saw bright green gems radiating with soft glow in Fëanáro's hands. Those were the hardest to make them shine. "It's not your usual colour of choice, though."

Fëanáro looked up, clearly pleased with the praise he received. "These are for Arafinwe. I saw a place in his library that could really do with a bit more of light. And green should correspond well with the window ornaments." To prove his point, Fëanáro unfolded a sheet of paper with a sketch of said window. It looked peculiar, childish on one side, but on the other consisting of all measurements necessary to create a lamp that would fit. "See? A lamp placed here should highlight the leaves and this one here..." Fëanáro reached for another sheet, lost in his explanations and eager to share his idea, but he couldn't quite hide the tremble in his tiny hands. Mahtan covered them both with his large one, startling the boy and stilling him. Fëanáro blinked in surprise and closed his fingers around the nearest gem.

"Alquandur is very young," Mahtan said quietly, placing his other hand on Fëanáro's shoulder. "He only knows you from the stories of old. Do not dwell on his words."

Fëanáro stared at the crystal in his hands. "I shouldn't care."

"It's only natural that you do," Mahtan shrugged. "Perhaps I should have forewarned them all. I'm sure once the novelty wears off, they will come to you for advice. Alquandur too."

"He already has a teacher, who once happened to be my master too."

Mahtan chuckled. "Now you make me feel ancient."

Reluctantly, Fëanáro returned the smile, then grinned unexpectedly. "You were ancient the first time I came here."

"That's charming. Now let your old master show you that he's not yet rusty," Mahtan picked the parts of crystal settings. "Shall we?"

When Nolofinwe, drawn by an old habit, came earlier than he had said, just to watch his brother work, he found him sitting on the working table and talking,. The multicolour light emanating from several crystal lamps standing around him made the forge look homely.


End file.
